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The Leaky Cauldron was comfortably crowded for a summer evening. Wizards and witches filled the scarred wooden tables, tankards clinking together beneath the warm glow of floating lanterns. The smell of roast beef, spilled ale, and woodsmoke hung pleasantly in the air while conversation rolled through the pub in a constant cheerful hum.
Harry was halfway through his second pint when a startled shout echoed from the floor above.
A few heads turned.
The shout was followed by hurried footsteps, a slammed door, and then the unmistakable sound of someone being chased. The conversations nearest the staircase faltered as curious patrons glanced upward.
A moment later, Harry was greeted by the sight of his teenage son stumbling down the narrow wooden stairs that led to the Leaky Cauldron's residential quarters. James was clutching his trainers to his chest, his hair even more disheveled than usual, while Neville Longbottom dragged him firmly by the collar of his rumpled Harpies jumper.
From where he sat, Harry couldn't quite make out what James was saying, but his son appeared to be speaking at a frantic pace, his face a mixture of embarrassment, apology, and outright panic.
Beside him, Ron let out a snort.
"Looks like Neville caught James during one of his study sessions with Ellie."
Harry shook his head, took a final sip of his pint, and watched with resigned amusement as Neville marched James across the pub and deposited him onto the bench beside him.
James immediately collapsed forward, burying his face in his folded arms on the table as though he hoped the wood might open up and swallow him whole.
Neville regarded the pathetic display for a long moment.
"I expected more respect," he said sternly.
Then, with one final disappointed shake of his head, he turned and stalked away.
"Jim," Harry began.
"Don't, Dad," James mumbled into his sleeves without lifting his head.
Harry glanced toward the staircase just as Ellie descended. She paused on the last step, tightening the blue ribbon in her hair. For a brief moment, her eyes drifted toward James, and a look of longing crossed her face.
Instead of approaching the table, Ellie slipped behind the bar and began helping her mother collect empty plates and glasses.
Harry watched the exchange with interest.
"I just need some context," he said reasonably, "so I can determine the most appropriate punishment."
James's head shot up. "I didn't do anything!"
Harry was immediately unconvinced.
"Honest, Dad!" James protested, meeting his father's gaze with wide, pleading brown eyes. "Neville's completely overreacting."
He folded his arms and slumped against the high wooden back of the booth.
"We were studying."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"But?" he prompted.
James groaned. "We might have taken a break."
"I see."
Harry paused long enough for James to look increasingly uncomfortable.
"Look, James, Neville's right about one thing. You need to respect him. If you want a long future with your girlfriend, you need to respect her parents. Whatever exactly happened upstairs, Neville clearly wasn't pleased to find the two of you alone."
"It wasn't like that."
Harry ignored the interruption.
"And your mother and I wouldn't be particularly thrilled if we came home and found you and Ellie in a similarly compromising situation."
"It wasn't compromising!"
Across the table, Ron let out a bark of laughter.
"James, you're seventeen. Neville and you probably have very different definitions of compromising."
"Our clothes were still on!" James exclaimed.
Ron immediately choked on his drink while Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That is not the defense you seem to think it is." Harry.
James dropped his forehead against the table with a groan. "I hate all of you."
"Apologize to Neville," Harry said.
James lifted his head just enough to glare. "No. That's humiliating. Can't you just ground me for the rest of the summer instead?"
"No."
"Take away my broom."
"No."
"My wand?"
"Definitely not."
James looked genuinely desperate now. "There has to be a punishment less embarrassing than apologizing."
Harry shook his head. "You're an adult now, James. Act like one."
James stared at him for a moment then he let out a long, suffering sigh and slid out of the booth. "This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
Ron snorted. "You've had a remarkably fortunate life."
James squared his shoulders and pushed his hands against the edge of the table as though preparing to march toward his fate. He made it halfway to standing before abruptly freezing.
Harry followed his son's gaze across the pub.
The evening crowd had grown thicker while they had been talking. Every table seemed occupied. Wizards and witches sat shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the warm amber glow of lanterns hanging from the ceiling beams. Tankards clinked together. A group of young Ministry workers near the fireplace erupted into laughter at some joke while an elderly wizard argued passionately over a game of Gobstones in the corner.
Amid all the noise and movement, Ellie stood out immediately.
She was no longer helping Hannah behind the bar. Instead, she had slipped away to the old upright piano tucked beside the hearth.
The piano looked almost as old as the pub itself. Its dark wood was scratched and worn smooth by decades of hands, and several of its ivory keys had yellowed with age. Someone had left a butterbeer on top of it beside a vase of slightly wilted wildflowers.
Ellie sat perched on the bench, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as her fingers drifted across the keys. The melody she played was soft and familiar, weaving through the pub's constant hum of conversation like a thread through cloth.
Harry watched the transformation in James almost instantly. The humiliation that had weighed on him moments earlier seemed to lift from his shoulders.
His posture straightened. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without another word, James crossed the pub.
He wove between crowded tables and sidestepped a waitress carrying a tray stacked high with shepherd's pie before reaching the piano.
Ellie looked up at his approach. James said something quietly, leaning down so only she could hear. Ellie's cheeks turned faintly pink.
Whatever he had said earned him an eye-roll, though the smile tugging at her lips ruined any attempt at annoyance and James slid onto the bench beside her. The piano bench wobbled slightly beneath their combined weight.
Ellie shifted closer without seeming to realize she was doing it and rested her head lightly against his shoulder as her fingers continued moving over the keys. James looked as though every embarrassment of the evening had been completely forgotten. Rather than watching the room, he watched her hands.
Harry noticed Ellie glance up every few moments, checking whether James was paying attention to the song. Each time she found him already looking at her.
For a pair of teenagers who had been caught sneaking off together less than ten minutes earlier, neither appeared particularly chastened.
The pub carried on around them.
A chair scraped against the floor nearby.
Someone called for another round of drinks.
The fireplace crackled warmly.
Near the entrance, a witch struggled to convince a stubborn umbrella stand that she did not need protection from the rain as it was a cloudless night.
James and Ellie noticed none of it. They seemed entirely alone despite sitting in the middle of one of the busiest pubs in magical Britain.
"You know," Neville said heavily, sliding into the space James had vacated.
Harry tore his attention away from the teenagers as Neville dropped onto the bench with the weary resignation of a man who had spent the evening discovering exactly how quickly his daughter was growing up.
"I used to think having a daughter was a well-earned blessing after everything I'd been through."
As if summoned by parental despair, three fresh pints floated gracefully across the room from the bar. They drifted between tables, avoided a passing waitress, and settled neatly onto the table with soft thumps. Neville accepted one with a sigh. "Now I'm beginning to suspect teenage daughters are a curse all on their own."
"Nah," Ron said, immediately claiming another pint. "It's not the girls who are the problem."
He gestured his head toward James. "It's the teenage boys."
Neville groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Trust me," Ron continued. "Just wait until Gilbert turns fourteen. Then you'll understand."
"I think I'll find some way to hex him so he stays ten forever."
Ron nodded solemnly. "Perfectly reasonable. Good luck with that."
Across the pub, Ellie gently took James's hands and positioned them over the piano keys. Harry watched as she showed him where to place his fingers. James missed nearly every note, but Ellie only laughed and guided his hands back into place.
The two of them were completely absorbed in their own little world. Just two teenagers in a noisy pub, enjoying the last weeks before their final year at Hogwarts.
Harry smiled into his drink. "I still think they're a blessing."
Neville snorted. "That's because you're not a teacher, Harry. You don't spend every day dealing with hundreds of teenagers."
"Maybe." Harry watched James finally manage a short sequence of notes, looking absurdly pleased with himself when Ellie applauded.
"But it's nice, isn't it?"
Neville and Ron both looked at him.
Harry gestured toward the crowded room. "Complaining about teenagers sneaking off with their girlfriends. Worrying about detentions and bad decisions and whether they're spending enough time studying."
His voice got a bit more quiet. "It's nice that those are the things we get to worry about."
Neither Ron nor Neville interrupted.
Harry took a sip of his pint.
"I'd much rather be annoyed that James got caught snogging his girlfriend than wonder whether he's about to get entered into a death tournament."
Ron barked out a laugh.
Harry continued. "Or possessed by a diary."
Neville smirked. "Fair."
"Or attacked by a basilisk."
"Also fair."
"Or hunted by dark wizards."
"Harry—"
"Or forced to save the school before he's old enough to shave."
"Harry."
Harry looked at Ron innocently.
"What?"
Ron stared at him.
"Merlin's beard, mate. How many pints have you had?"
Harry considered it. "...Less than it sounds like."
That earned reluctant laughs from both Ron and Neville.
Across the room, oblivious to the conversation, Ellie rested her head against James's shoulder again as they fumbled their way through another song.
Harry smiled.
Yes, he thought, ordinary teenage problems were definitely a blessing.